come with me to a place time has completely forgotten. where life moves and progresses in a surrogate fashion, out of phase with the surrounding world. where the land looks through the glass and steals glimpses, snatches a phrase here and there, and ponders an unimaginable life not knowing when simplicity will give way to wont desire. it watches you closely and sits with anticipation, hoping you stumble onto its porch to bestow a sacred welcome. let us hitch our way along the Howramann Valley....
a sun-bleached summertime paradise, barren and dry. the dead-yellow grass belies a deep-red fertility just waiting to pounce. a sleeping beauty trapped torpid in a seasonal clutch. the dusty road opens into an inspired Garden of Eden. the fig, pomegranate and walnut solemnly shade a sweating brow as the sun mixes with dust settling on the horizon. the rockface is littered with scars cut seasonally over millenia; in today's episode the water trickles slowly, its prophetic entrance a reminder that here life sows its own threads.
the turquoise waters of the Sirwan river rattle through a canyon, offering a cleansing invitation. fortuitous pools swirl in Escheresque patterns, a subtle dichotomy of life and death that breaks the rules and blends into one. the water is cool and refreshing, playing a welcome song in a welcoming land.
A bulbous moustache scrambles out the window of a passing truck, and offers a now-familiar show of gracious welcome and hospitality. the village Hajij becomes home for a night or two as The Moustache becomes a friend. The Kurdish ways are layed bare once more as an avalanche of unbridled hospitality is poured forth.
hugs and love from the Howramann valley
joe
